


==> PS: Get the Girl

by Bat



Category: Mobsterswitch - Fandom, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bat/pseuds/Bat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Peccant Scofflaw acquires himself a lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	==> PS: Get the Girl

**== > PS: Get the Girl**

You’ve got the girl already. What a stupid command.

 

 

 

**== > PS: Go back to when you didn’t have the girl then.**

You’re about to get the girl. In a few seconds, she will be yours.

 

 

 

**== > PS: Further than that.**

You’re about to get the girl. In a few minutes, she will be yours.

 

 

 

**== > PS: Go back to the goddamn start, asshole.**

You never really believed in love at first sight. Of course, you could make some exceptions to that rule, but if you were going to be an obstinate dick about it, you didn’t go in for that bullshit.

 

Most of the time.

 

You might have to make an exception for this one.

She’s brave, she’s bold, she’s sexy as hell. She’s sleek looking, which you admire, but not a skinny little bitch, which you admire even more. You always did like a bit of bulk on a woman. Not so much that she became cumbersome, but just enough that she looked _good._ This one pulls it off with aplomb. She sits in a certain way, poised like a big cat ready to take off at a hundred miles an hour. Hot damn. She hasn’t even made a noise yet, but you know when she does it’s gonna be sublime. 

You swagger over to her in that way you have, admiring her curves and edges that convene in heavenly crossways of personified sex. You don’t even know if that last part made sense, but damn if it wasn’t accurate. Carefully, not wanting to cause any sort of fuss or discombobulation, you raise a hand to brush your fingers across them. She’s cold, but a refreshing cold, a delicate cool. Like a chilled bottle of fine wine or… Something. Look, you’re not in the mood for artistic metaphors, you’ve got a dame to catch.

 

You didn’t look all over the city for this little lady for nothing, after all.

 

You suddenly become aware of the set of eyes watching your every move. It’s evident that the owner of these eyes might not appreciate you treating his lady the way you are. You draw your hand back to your pocket, and immediately see relief on your spectator’s face.

 

**== > PS: Inquire.**

 

You’ve bought yourself enough whores (on behalf of the skinny one or otherwise) to know that this is where it gets tricky: The part with the dough.

“How much?”

You keep it easy, simple. You don’t want to raise any hackles here. Or any prices, either. Not that it particularly matters to you, but you’d prefer if this went over as smoothly as possible. The man in the corner looks at your future angel, eyeing her up and down. Like he doesn’t have a price in mind already, the skeezy bastard. What an asshole. Does he think he’s clever or something? You inhale, and then exhale.

“One-forty, at the least.”

You inhale and exhale again, and your fingers go to your wallet. That’s okay. You’ve paid more money for ladies like this before. Plus, you know it will be worth it in the end.

 

Even so.

 

You crack a smile.

“Of course, of course. And what… _Condition_ is she in?”    

It’s a delicate question for sure, and an uncomfortable one if you ain’t talking to the right kinda guy. Your merchant doesn’t bat and eyelid however. He was prepared for this one.

“Used. Slightly used.”

You try not to laugh. Slightly used? Does he think he’s funny, or what? You know a woman who’s been well used when you see one. You decide to let that one slide, however. Smooth. Diplomatic. You’re playing nicey.

“Listen, I’m going to have to say something here.”

You begin.

“Even for a woman of this standard, don’t you think that price is a little… steep?”

 

He puffs out his cheeks as he lets out a huge breath. You smile even bigger, and you see him go red. He knows what he’s doing here. More importantly, he knows who he’s dealing with.

“I’m sure we could negotiate, right? Maybe get those numbers a little smaller?”

He slowly starts nodding, gradually picking up the pace. Sure Scofflaw, of course Scofflaw, anything you want, Scofflaw. Just the way you like it. It’s time to play a little limbo, you think. Just how low can you go? You remember to recount that one to Detective when you next see him.

“Now I ain’t saying I want the girlie for nothing, but what I’m saying is that I want the girlie for nothing.”

The man freezes for a second, and then shakes his head quickly. He doesn’t say a word, just shudders a little and keeps shaking his damn head. If he doesn’t stop, you’re going to shake it right off his shoudlers. Thankfully he does stop, and you’re saved the trouble of explaining a loose head in the trunk to Innovator next time you see him.

“I… I don’t think that’s an option, sir.”

 

He says, quietly.

You crack your knuckles, loudly.

 

“Well then I do believe there’s a little negotiation in order.”

 

**== > PS: Negotiate**

You kick him in the balls.

 

He wheezes and huffs as he falls to the ground, and you jump on ever there to make sure that’s where he stays. You pin him down with a knee to the chest, and rifle through his pockets. Sure enough you find what you’re looking for. You peel yourself off of him and stand up. He attempts to execute the same maneuver, which you halt with a swift kick to the stomach. He curls around the damaged area, coughing violently.

 

You’re about to get the girl. In a few seconds, she will be yours.

You slip over to your dame of choice, and pull open the door. You shove the pickpocketed keys into the ignition and twist. Your baby roars into action, and you shiver. You knew she was going to be a screamer. You crank her into reverse and slam your foot down. Turning the wheel in a practiced frenzy you skid her around until you can see your salesman, only just recovering from your pointy shoes. In an act of blind idiocy he stumbles in front of you, holding his arms out. You shall not pass. 

You _do_ pass, and turn on the wipers to remove the blood from your windscreen.

You speed off down the hill, escaping the poor sucker’s estate at full speed.

 

When you said you wanted your new corvette, you meant you were getting your new corvette.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> see: one decked out 1965 corvette sting ray coupe


End file.
